Couch
by Lazerwolf314
Summary: Nick is exhausted. Andy appears. Light, happy McCollins fluff, set post 4.09 but pre season finale.


Nick is exhausted.

Physically, emotionally, mentally.

After a long week of undercover work side by side with Sam Swarek, which was an adventure and challenge in itself, on a long and grueling case involving drug smuggling through school children, Nick is inches away from simply going boneless and collapsing onto the floor of his apartment and not moving for a solid twenty four hours. As it is, he closes his door behind him with a haphazard kick at the offending barrier, drops his gear bag to the floor just beside the boots he toes off and makes it as far as his couch before giving up and tumbling face first onto the cushions.

A small groan of satisfaction slips free as he feels several of his vertebrae pop as the act of being supine for the first time in what might actually be several days forces his spine back into place. The wave of relief that rushes through is blood is incredible and heady, making him feel a little punch drunk… but that might've also been the lack of sleep or solid food for the last thirty two hours. Nick burrows deeper into the fabric of his couch and wraps his arms around one of the end pillows, giving half a thought to pulling the blanket on the back of the couch down, before abandoning it and pressing his face into the pillow.

Not caring he was still wearing his jacket, Nick feels the weight of the past week slide off his shoulders even as his eyes flicker shut. For a moment, he considers fighting off the impending sleep in favour of calling Andy, but eventually abandons the idea.

Before, before whatever they are now, he would've called her in a heartbeat, wanting (needing) her presence to fight back the lingering claws of undercover work and force some light back in through the shadows. But now, he finds himself uncertain. When it comes to Andy, he doesn't want to risk pushing her too far too fast, even though logically, he knows that the friendship part of their relationship hasn't truly changed.

He knows she'd be there for him, just as he would for her.

Nick doesn't pull his phone out like he wants to, doesn't call her like he wants to, that treacherous self-consciousness creeping in and filling his head with doubts, made worse by his exhaustion.

Giving into sleep, he lets himself fall into the dark, just as a knock sounds at the door.

The groan that burst free from his libs is full of exasperation.

In an act of pure spite and annoyance, he pulls the pillow out from under his head and smashes it over his ear.

If he doesn't move, maybe they'll go away and let him sleep, he thinks, believing the person at his door to be his next door neighbour welcoming him home.

Hearing muffled quite effectively by the pillow, Nick is able to ignore the next round of knocking, dropping himself further into the reaching grasp of sleep.

Because of this, he misses the sound of a key turning in the lock and his door opening.

So when someone touches his shoulder, Nick isn't expecting it and he's up and falling over the back of his couch in a burst of adrenaline fueled limbs and soldier instincts. Rolling over the back of the couch with a yelp that he will deny adamantly deny if anyone calls him on it, Nick pops up on the other side to see a startled Andy standing between the couch and his coffee table, one hand still outstretched and the other clutching a large brown paper bag.

There's a long moment of humming silence before she speaks.

"Um… hey."

"Christ Andy, you nearly gave me a heart attack," Nick exclaims through the blood pounding in his ears.

The guilt that floods her features tugs heavily in his chest and he instantly feels contrite for snapping at her, but she continues before he can.

"Sorry Nick," she murmurs, "I just wanted to drop off some food since I figured you hadn't had time to get anything after the briefing and I figured some bear claws wouldn't go amiss and I wanted to see you…" she trails off when the guilt gets the better of her and she looks at her feet.

Smiling fondly at this foolish and fantastic woman, Nick steps around the couch and gently takes the paper bag from her grasp. Setting it on the coffee table, Nick runs his hands down her arms until his fingers twine with hers, squeezing gently.

"Thank you," he whispers sincerely, waiting until she meets his gaze before pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. And some of the cold in his chest is chased away.

* * *

 _A/N: I needed some fluff._

 _Hearts always, A._


End file.
